


The Deaths

by Enjolrras



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-18 12:59:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19335007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enjolrras/pseuds/Enjolrras
Summary: This story is made up out of five short scenes, each of which captures the moment of death for the principle characters who died in the show





	The Deaths

This isn’t so much a story as a capturing of five of the most tragic moments of Downton Abbey: the five deaths of principle characters.  
WARNING: This contains major spoilers, DO NOT read this if you do not yet know the whole series!

 

The Deaths

 

A soft bed in a great house. A great lady as a nurse. A father, a newly wed bride. Shallow breaths, fluttering eyelids.  
“He doesn’t need none of us no more.”  
William

 

Spanish flu, but a light case. All attention on Her Ladyship. A fiancé whose love she doubted, and whom she loved nonetheless. A request to reconsider.  
“Matthew! Mary!”  
“Is it Mama?”  
“That’s what’s so – it’s Lavinia.”  
Sweat. High fever. A shaking of the doctor’s head.  
“Isn’t this better?”  
Lavinia

 

A pregnancy. A doctor from London with an excellent reputation. A promise to telephone the local doctor. A disagreement.  
“Do you not find the baby small?”  
“Not unusually so.”  
“And the ankles?”  
“Maybe she has thick ankles, lots of women do.”  
“But she does not.”  
Arguments in the library. His Lordship and the London doctor, Her Ladyship and the local doctor. Eclampsia? No danger whatsoever. Hospital?  
“The decision lies with the chauffeur.”  
A scream. Anxious faces. But then – a girl. Relief. Happiness.  
“I just want to sleep, really.”  
Night. Darkness. Silence, until – running footsteps. A door ripped open.  
“Mama! Mama, wake up, it’s Sybil!”  
A room, a hell. A pounding head, attempts to cool it. Attempts to reason, to calm. Madness. Desperate tries to breathe. A thickened, hardened throat.  
“Oh my god, what’s happening?”  
“This is eclampsia.”  
“You were so sure, Sir Philipp!”  
“There’s nothing to be done.”  
“That’s not possible, not now, not these days!”  
“All you need to do is breathe, love. Come on, all you need to do is breathe.”  
Struggle.  
“Please don’t leave me, love. Please don’t leave me!”  
Silence.  
“But this cannot be. She’s 24 years old.”  
A baby’s cry.  
Sybil

 

An early return from the Highlands. Not to the house, but straight to the hospital. Slightly early, but not very. Messages. The whole family returning.  
“Can this hot, dusty traveller come in?”  
A bed, a woman. Exhausted, but so happy. The happiest. In her arms, a newborn wrapped in white blankets.  
“Hello, my dearest little chap.”  
One, two, three. A father, a mother, a son. A family.  
“You are going to be such a wonderful mother.”  
“I hope I’ll be your Mary Crawley for all eternity.”  
“You’ll be my Mary always.”  
Smiles, kisses.  
“I love you more with every day that passes.”  
“I’ll remind you of that next time I scratch the car.”  
A farewell.  
“Life is strange, isn’t it?”  
A car, a beaming driver. A narrow road. Another car.  
“And tell Mr. Crawley he must wait his turn. He’s seen the baby, the others haven’t.”  
A car door opening, a man jumping out. An overturned car. An outstretched man. Blood. Empty, empty eyes.  
Matthew

 

A trip to Germany. No letters, no calls.  
“I just wish to God he’d pick up the telephone.”  
Uncertainty. Private detectives. Some men in brown.  
“They go around preaching the most horrible things.”  
A man, a messenger.  
“Not good news?”  
“If it were, he’d have telephoned.”  
Bierkeller-Putsch. At last, the knowledge. The death.  
Michael


End file.
